No not stupid
You stupid
Me learned.
No not drunk.

What about more lines
Than just four?
One more?
Two more?
Change in form and
Stanza size.
What'd your English teacher say?

*******, *******,
Don't care, won't listen.
You don't mean nothin' - nowt at all.
Oh look back to four.

What do people write about?
There's a girl here wearing heels
To a relaxed creative thing.
Do I write about that?

Do I write about 'love'?
But I don't believe in it.
Go on then: green fields, pretty skies, blue-eyed boy.
Melt my heart.

Or nature: the pastoral, eh?
A green thought in a green shade.
Be conscious of the spilled blood that went into the making of the wild sky.
Sheep and cows and trees and England and dear God what is that smell?

Dr Evans said the last thing is death.
To sink into the ground and be eliminated.
Forgotten and remembered.
I should very much like that.

Well, there you have it.
A poem about poetry.
Call it postmodernism
But really I'm just bored.

Let's be mad, just dance together.
A crazy symphony in harmony.
I think they call it...
Fun!

Haha, isn't this great?
Big sad word: alive.
Words were funny, are funny, or will be -
Tenses were somewhere too. Somewhere? Everywhere.

Oooh, ain't you talkin' crazy?
We could get married, eh?
Have half a dozen kids and
Teach 'em to dance like us.

Let's leave, doll.
Get in the car and just drive.
Drop the top, doll,
Let me see the starlight.

O! An open road -
Reckless like Gatsby!
I feel it, the road getting narrower
The further we go.

Dance with me, doll,
Let's just dance.
Here in this state-side desert
Dance with me, inside me -

Well then, darling,
It's been - ah - fun.
We didn't get married, didn't have kids,
Didn't tell stories.

You'll always be my
Big 'what-if'
But it's not like I care.
It's not like you do, either.

So go home, doll,
We're drunk.
I missed you, miss you, will miss you.
Tenses again. I loved you.

I LOVED YOU.
I HATE YOU.
I WILL REGRET YOU.
I scream (screamed, will scream) to the Heavens.

Man. Chair. Pink.
Listen, listen.
I have something to say -
No, wait, it's gone.

Out the window, like my mind.
Red scarf, blue hat,
Don't match.
Sad.

There's a crazy girl in the
corner, lining up straws.
Ha! Not crazy, ketchup crazy.
Ha! That's me.

Bright, burning RED
I see it through the darkness;
The only real thing
There, tying me down,
Holding me still.
RED RED RED

And now the sun glows ORANGE.
Rising in the sky
Like a God.
Apollo in his chariot,
Looking down on us.
ORANGE ORANGE ORANGE

The sky fades to YELLOW
Now, a peculiar, ugly colour. I like it.
Your face lights up now,
Looks better this way.
The tinge of your skin -
YELLOW YELLOW YELLOW

I see you in GREEN
When I think of you.
And I think of you often.
I think of you hopefully, longingly, jealously.
I can't help it.
GREEN GREEN GREEN

They say that BLUE
Is a cold colour,
But no, it is warm. It is the sea and the sky and the summer.
They say your favourite colour is that of your true love's eyes.
Guess you're not my true love. Ah well.
BLUE BLUE BLUE

You gave me INDIGO
Roses on the first of our birthdays we spent together.
You'd tried to dye them my favourite colour
But of course it hadn't worked.
I laughed at your failure. Loved you for it.
INDIGO INDIGO INDIGO

Skies of VIOLET
Are breathed upon us by the cruellest of months:
April.
At the twilight hour the cold, callous evening
Tears you from me. Go back to her, then.
VIOLET VIOLET VIOLET

These are the colours that bind us together.
These are the colours that tear us apart.

Someday
I will be able to drive past
Dunfermline
Glasgow
Sheffield
Without remembering you.
They will just be,
Once again,
Places on a map
To which I have no connection.

Not that I have any
Tangible connection
To them now,
Of course.
It's just you.
Not that I have any
Tangible connection
To you either,
I suppose.

What a pity.

And maybe someday
I will be able to come home
Without hurting that
I am no longer coming home to you.
However much I wish
That weren't true.

The few times
I've seen you recently
(Thrice, I think)
I have had to lie to him
About it.

And it's hilarious,
Really,
Because you always said
I was **** at lying,
But I think that

It's just because
You
(Even today, when we don't talk)
Know me painfully well;
Better than anyone.

You and me;
Our souls are the same.
So we both know
When we lie
And I hate

That I don't think
Anyone will
Know me
So well
Again.

It feels like
You reached into my chest
And at first, anyway,
Caressed my heart;
Boosted it;
And made it grow stronger.

And so I opened up to you;
Trusted you;
Fell for you.
Remember when you told me
That people can't help who they fall for?

Well I think
That those we fall for
Could help us not to fall for them
By being less kind-then-cruel.

Because now it feels like
You are still reaching into my heart,
But are clinging to it
As someone else tries to heal me;
And you are crushing it
Into tiny pieces
Slowly.
Oh, so slowly.
Is this really necessary?